


About Today

by wickedg



Series: Chasing Watermelons [12]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Community: rarepair_shorts, F/F, F/M, Original Offspring, Well hopefully
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-18
Updated: 2012-09-18
Packaged: 2017-11-14 11:55:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedg/pseuds/wickedg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slipping away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	About Today

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: for what it's worth

Katie opened her eyes, the dying echos of the nightmare falling around her, screams of loss and devastation clouding her foggy mind. Slowly, she let out a shuddering breath, throat clenching tight, heart pounding as she widened her eyes, determined not to let the tears fall.  
  
The room was obscenely bright, illuminating the dark scratches on the white floor from the black legs of the chair she was camped out on, the pale skin that looked sallow and bereft of the life it still contained. Barely.  
  
Rubbing her face, she turned her head this way and that, trying to work out the kink in her neck from sleeping upright in an uncomfortable chair all evening. She looked to the window, rolling her shoulders-the sun was rising slowly, a horrifically beautiful orange dawn casting its glow about the room.  
  
“Mum.” A soft voice said from the doorway, and Katie turned to it. Her beautiful girl Martha. _Their_ beautiful girl, now a woman.  
  
She bit her lip, mustering a smile onto her face she knew can’t possibly reach her eyes. She spotted the flowers in her daughter’s arms, a vase of geraniums and hydrangeas and peonies.  
  
“Oh, those are beautiful, Marth.” She muttered, motioning Martha to step closer. “Come, bring them over, they’ll look lovely here.”  
  
“Mum, I-” Martha begins after setting the vase down, but Katie cuts her off.  
  
“Your father will be here soon-I expect he’ll be able to tell us all those fun meanings of the flowers you picked, eh?” And Martha just grins weakly-almost a grimace, in fact, at her mother who continues to fuss over the arrangement. “Come on, sit down and tell me about your shift.”  
  
And so Martha sits, and quietly, relays her work day to her mother.  
  
Later, long after her mother nodded off again and pulling a blanket onto her lap, Martha leaned against the door frame, just watching. The long blonde hair she used to play with and braid as a child had become a much lighter shade-silver, even, if her father dared mention the idea of an aging Katie Weasley at the dinner table. Her aging hair matched her aging mother, but Martha knew it didn’t have to be like this.  
  
Her heart twisted a little inside, watching her mother’s sleeping form lean a little more towards her father, who lay on the bed, all but dead to the world, his almost empty shell of a body reduced to skin and bones.  
  
“Marth,” a voice whispers behind her, and she turns, hastily wiping tears from her cheeks as she sees Claudette approach, a worried look on her face. They embrace, and Martha draws little strength from the comfort. She wipes her hands on her scrubs, looking down to her trainers, anything to avoid the sight of her parents, both unknowingly dying before her, and Claudette, beautiful Claudette, brings a hand under her chin, tilting her face back up to her own, gently cupping Martha’s cheek.  
  
“It’s like they don’t even know, Claw, and it’s killing me to just, to just-to just watch...” she whispers, unable to keep her voice from breaking a little, and it feels like her insides are shaking.  
  
But Claudette just gives her the tiniest of sad smiles, and shakes her head a little.  
  
“You’ve just come off a long shift, Marth. Come on, let’s find you a bed nearby.” She takes her hand, and Martha looks down, watching the sun’s gentle rays dance off the rings quietly _clunk_ ing together.  
  


* * *

  
She watches as she wakes in silence, watches as she comes out of whatever nightmare had her twitching in her sleep, as she looks around her, quickly zoning back on her husband. She watches as she leans forward, taking his hand in hers, silver hair limp and heavy, curtaining her face and almost his as well.  
  
“Are you awake?” She barely hears her whisper to the immobile form on the bed, who just continues to sleep on, sleep away from them. “I’m right here, Percy. I’m right here.”  
  
And Martha Weasley just watches, salty tears rolling down her silent face.  
  
“Don’t slip away from me,” she whispers.


End file.
